


Choices

by Mel1



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mel1/pseuds/Mel1
Summary: An ex-lawman from Texas comes to town looking for Vin.





	

To any other man, the stranger riding into town on the tall horse with the worn tack was just a lone cowboy, probably looking for a meal, a drink, and a bed, with a bath tossed in only if it was convenient. To any other man, he was just a shadow passing through town who wasn't worth a second look.

Chris Larabee wasn't any other man.

The stranger caught his eye first thing. It wasn't anything Chris could've put into words, even if he'd thought about it. It was just a feeling - and he hadn't lived this long by ignoring his feelings.

The fella wasn't a bounty hunter, that wasn't the feeling Chris got. His expression was too open, too friendly. He was eating an apple as he paced his horse down the muddy street, and he touched his hat and smiled at ladies passing by. Even sitting, he was tall, with brown hair shot with gray, a full mustache and eyes creased at the sides like he spent a lot of time smiling and laughing.

Still, Chris felt him a threat.

He watched him down the long street and saw him pull up in front of the saloon. For no good reason, that sent another sting of apprehension into Chris' spine. He stood from his chair in front of the jail. Better to know this man's business straight up than learn it the hard way later on.

The saloon was full and the man was at the bar drinking a beer when Chris walked in. He went to the bar as well, and ordered a whisky. He stood a good arm's length away, and kept a surreptitious watch on the fella in the mirror and out of the corner of his eye. The fella didn't seem to be doing much, just drinking his beer. At one point he took one of his coins off the bar and flicked it to make it spin on its edge, and he stared intently at that awhile.

"Name's Tom," he said finally. They were the only two at the bar and his voice wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear. He wasn't looking at Chris, but he had to be talking to him.

"Is it?" Chris asked, sounding uninterested.

"Yeah, figured maybe knowing my name'd make it easier for you to ask whatever question y'got strangling you there. I ain't been eyed up so much since I fell in with a coupla grass widows over in Fort Smith." The man – Tom – turned to face Chris and looked him once up and down.

"Don't see a badge, don't recollect owing you money and I  _know_  you ain't my Ma…" He kept his tone conversational, but Chris sensed a lethal nature under the calm exterior. "Still, I'm thinking it wasn't coincidence that made you get out of that rickety chair in front of the jail and follow me all the way down here."

"Not looking for trouble," Chris told him. He knew that Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah were scattered around the room and would be keeping an eye on his situation.

"No – but I think maybe your friends are." Tom took another sip of beer. "Fancy fella, good with the cards and a rig up his sleeve two tables behind me. Colored man, talking something low and serious with a farmer off in the corner. Third fella, gray hair, looks like he could snap a man's neck without thinking about it."

Chris nearly grinned in admiration – this guy was good.

"Then there's the tall fella, back in the shadows," Tom went on to Chris' surprise; he didn't know Buck was in the saloon. "Mustache, tan coat. Hasn't made up his mind to step in, or wait to see what happens." Tom finished his beer and smiled at Chris. "Now I've got a horse to tend to, so I'm headed to the livery if you've a mind to continue this conversation."

He picked up his change and headed out the swinging doors, without looking back to see whether Chris was following. Buck was at Chris' side in a few moments.

"We got trouble?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, we're all accounted for but JD and Vin." Buck gave a thorough look around the saloon. "Though I doubt JD could scare up the kind of trouble that man might be carrying."

"Vin's down at Mary's."  

"Think this fella's a bounty hunter?"

"No, I don't. All the same, I think he's trouble."

"You want me to keep an eye on him?" Buck asked. "I could be headed down that way to see Miss Lily. He'd never know I was following him."

"Buck – he  _already_  knows you're following him," Chris had to say. "I'm gonna head to Mary's."

Chris was only just out of the saloon when he saw Tom confronting Vin down at the livery. He jerked his head that Buck should come along and got there just as Vin was saying, "Ain't no way you're taking me back to Texas."

"I figure I can take you back to Texas and a few more things to boot if I'm of a mind to," Tom said. He gestured at Chris. "What's  _his_  say in this?"

"Right now it's just you and me," Vin told him. "And I done give ya the only answer I'm gonna give ya: you're going back to Texas alone."

"You heard him," Chris said.

Tom looked at him. "I ain't in the habit of discussing my private business with strangers."

"You're done palavering anyhow," Vin told him. He started to walk away.

"I ain't done talking to you, boy."  

"Well, I'm done listening."

Tom started to follow him and Chris blocked his way, joined by Buck. "You think I look like trouble?" Tom asked. His tone was conversational, as if he actually wanted to know.

"You mean do I think you look like most any other trail riding, hard drinking, footloose cowboy who's ever raised sand in a town?" Chris replied. "Yeah, I do."

Tom's eyes flicked to where Vin had walked off, then he smiled. "Well, I have had those days, I can tell you. Now, if you'll excuse me – I need a bath." He tipped his hat and turned away.

"You just gonna let him go?" Buck asked.

"He ain't done anything yet," Chris pointed out. "I'm gonna talk to Vin. I got the idea he knows this fella."

Despite having just walked away, Vin was not an easy man to find. He hadn't gone to the saloon or Mary's or Josiah's or the boarding house or any of his likely places. Chris found himself walking the street looking  _up_  but Vin wasn't to be found on the rooftops either.

"Where the hell are you,Tanner?"

An idea occurred to Chris and he circled back to the livery where he found Vin checking his tack.

"Took ya long enough," Tanner chided him. "Y'ain't usually that slow." He smiled as he said it but Chris wasn't in the mood.

"What the hell is goin' on? Who is that fella?"

"He's nobody." Vin lost his smile and turned back to his gear.

"You know him."  

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Tom."

"I knew  _that_  already," Chris said. He got no other answer. Maybe he didn't want to, but Chris knew he had to respect Vin's privacy.  _Had to_  because Tanner didn't give him a hell of a lot of other choices.

"Are you in trouble?" he asked, and when Vin gave him an amused grin, he amended his words. "Are you in trouble  _right now_ , with this Tom fella?"

"Nothing I ain't come up against before."

Chris waited, but again got no other answer. "Stubborn cuss," he said.

"Yeah, ya are," Vin agreed. That at least made Chris feel better. It wasn't false humor, given to throw him off the scent. Vin was actually at ease, so whatever trouble he might be having with this Tom fella, it wasn't lethal trouble. Still…

"Vin -."

"You'll be the first one I call for Chris. Count on it."

~~ M7 ~~

Vin was still in the livery when Tom came in again behind him.

"Y'ain't been eating enough."

"I been eatin' plenty," Vin told him, turning from where he was cleaning his saddle. "I suppose you're gonna tell me the food is better in Texas."

"You know it is," Tom said. "Sofia still puts on a hell of a spread."

"Inez over at the saloon does a fair job of Texican."

"Nothing and nobody outdoes Sofia," Tom declared, and added softly, "She still sets a place for you every night."

Vin packed away his cleaning supplies and made ready to leave the livery. He strapped on his holster and pulled on his jacket. Lastly he picked up his hat.

"When are ya gonna stop marrying women you don't love?" he asked, intending to push past Tom and not wait for an answer. Tom stopped him dead with a broad hand against his chest. His hand was hard and he towered over Vin, but his voice was soft with affection.

"I loved your mother," he said.

Vin pushed past anyway and left the livery. He felt his face burning as he headed up the street. Of all the people in the world he'd never want to see again. Tom was at the top  _and_  bottom of the list. Go back to Texas? That was a fool notion if ever Vin heard one. With Eli Joe dead, all Texas would get him was a short rope and a deep grave. He'd have to find a way of avoiding Tom until the old man got tired of trying and left town. Then maybe he'd have to think about moving on.

He didn't want to have to move on. Hell, he was always moving on from somewhere. Not always to escape Tom, but Tom always found him anyway. Hell, he even found Vin out on that Indian reservation six winters ago, and if it hadn't been for Sofia back at home, Vin was pretty sure Tom woulda made off with the Chief's old maid sister.

Vin tried not to think about Sofia, tried not to think about home. Though he did miss her cooking something fierce every now and again, and he could see her setting that extra plate out every night. She’d do that. He wasn't hers, but she sure loved him like he was. She was a homely sort too, like the Chief's sister. Well, she  _was_  until Tom courted her and married her and she became the most beautiful woman Vin thought he had ever seen.

Tom had a way of doing that, Vin thought unwillingly, he had a way of making the best out of the worst.

Still, even he couldn't bring anything good out of Eli Joe being dead and that noose squeezing tighter around Vin's neck. Even Tom wasn't that good.

Vin headed into the saloon and straight to the bar. He needed a whiskey.

"Vin?"

" _What_?" he asked, a little too snappish before he realized it was Chris. He relaxed his tone. "What?"

Chris gave him an appraising look but didn't comment on what he saw. "Mary's got a package over in Eagle Bend. I told her I'd pick it up for her. I could take the company if you wanted to go."

"Sure," Vin said immediately. Then, "No." He looked around the saloon and drank his whiskey down in one swallow. "Since when did you become an errand boy?" That remark was still kinda snappish. Chris didn't seem to mind.

"Since I decided I needed a slow afternoon with nothing to do but get somewhere and get back."

"It's nothing Chris. He's nothing."

"He's enough to get your riled."  

"I ain't riled – I'm homesick." Having said that, Vin paid for his whiskey and left the saloon. He walked back to the livery. Yosemite was outside.

"He in there?" Vin asked.

"Nope, he left right after you did."

"Thanks." He went in to his horse. If Chris didn't show up soon, he'd leave without him. Maybe he'd leave anyway. He didn't want to have to explain that homesick remark to Chris. He didn't want to explain it to himself.

But, true as that spray of water out in the desert, Larabee came into the livery and walked right up to Vin. Other people, Vin noticed, Chris stood a good arm's length away. With him, it was usually only a hands-breadth.

"Homesick?" Chris asked.

"He's from Texas."

"And he seems willing and ready to take you back with him."

"He ain't a bounty hunter," Vin said. "He was a lawman, but that was a long time ago."

"Can he help us clear your name?"

That question surprised Vin, 'us'. "Ain't no help with Eli Joe gone," and turned to his horse. "He'll likely try though."

"What's he to you?" Chris asked.

"He's nothing to me."

"You sure seem to be something to him."

Vin shot him a look but bent down to grab his gear. "We headin' outta here or not?"

"Yeah."

~~ M7 ~~

Chris had never been a man for prying into somebody else's business, unless that business threatened him or his interests somehow. If this Tom could cause trouble for Vin, it meant he could cause trouble for Chris and the town they'd been hired to protect. That justified a little prying.

Of course, Vin didn't seem too concerned. He didn't seem concerned at all, just a little peeved. And for as long as Chris had known Vin, the only times he got peeved was when he was peeved at himself.

Thinking on that, Chris turned to look at Vin, only to find Vin already looking at him, with that grin he got when he found something amusing.

"You're thinking so hard over there, a buffalo herd could come roaring past us and you'd never know it."

"What is he to you Vin? What are you to him?"

Vin sighed and shook his head. "That's something you don't need to know."

"Vin."

"What?" Vin sounded exasperated. "He ain't a bounty hunter. He ain't a hired gun. I knew him back in Texas and I wish I'd never met him. You keep jawin' about him and I'm gonna wish I'd never met you, too."

"I need to know if he's any threat to the town."

Vin seemed to think about it, but shook his head. "Naah. Onliest one I can see having a problem is Buck. Tom's collected more hearts than anyone I ever seen. Old Bucklin's liable to find himself high and dry so long as Tom is in town."

And Chris couldn't help but notice that for as much as Vin said he didn't like the man, there was a proud affection in his voice whenever he said _'Tom'_.

Eagle Bend was quiet, and disinterested in the two men. Mary's package of copper plates for her printing press was waiting for them at the newspaper office and after a stop in the saloon to clear the dust they headed back home again.

Chris was never much for prying, but this Tom fella did intrigue him. He'd never thought much about Vin's situation. Vin was here, he was a good man, and Chris trusted him. Vin had that bounty on his head, and Chris had that bounty on his mind, but the worry didn't chew on him. He just knew that when the time came, they'd take care of it.

Other than that, Chris knew precious little about Vin. He'd spent some time with people of Chanu's tribe. He'd been a buffalo hunter and a bounty hunter. That information Vin had shared willingly with Chris and Nathan. He couldn't read, which Mary had discovered one painful afternoon, and which Vin had told Chris about not too long after.

Even the five hundred dollar bounty he'd told Chris about barely two days after they'd met, which made him a fool or a good judge of character. But now Chris found himself thinking about the one bit of information that he'd never thought much about at all: Vin had lost his mother when he was five.

Apparently he'd told that to Nettie straight out, along with some particulars of her death. To the seven though, one winter night at the saloon when the season and the whiskey had brought the melancholy conversation around to mothers, he'd only said ' _she died, I was five_ ' and nobody, not even JD, would hazard to ask him anymore. For all they knew, Vin could've been orphaned and farmed out to strangers, or orphaned and taken in by family. He could still have a father and a family the size of a tribe all his own somewhere. Somehow, some way, this Tom figured in there.

"Is he family?" Chris asked.

"Larabee, I swear," Vin squinted one eye against the sunlight as he looked over. "You don't stop thinking and start paying attention I'm gonna..." The rest of his threat was cut off by the sound of a close gunshot. Vin's horse reared, tossing him onto the hard road.

Chris dismounted and went to his side, alert for more danger. Vin gripped his left arm with his right hand.

"Same damn shoulder." he hissed, in as much anger as pain. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know. Can you stand?"

"Yeah."

Chris gave him a hand up and they both turned to the sound of someone forcing their way through the underbrush.

Little Bennie Thompson, all of nine years old, cleared the bushes that were taller than he was, with one hand dragging a shotgun that probably saw duty in the Mexican War, and the other hand dragging a very dead turkey. His eyes widened in fear when he saw the two men.

"Uh oh."

"What are you doing? You could've killed us," Chris demanded, holstering his gun and advancing on the frightened boy. When Bennie couldn't answer, only stared in dumbfounded fear, Chris softened his tone. "Does your mother know you're out here?"

"No, she don't know. She thinks I gone fishing." He spat the words out as fast as he could get them. "Pa's gone on business again and Stevie ain't sent us the money yet this month and Ma's done cleaned out the smoke house and run out of flour and I thought if I could just bring her some meat she wouldn't walk around crying so much and -"

"All right, son, it's all right," Chris waved him quiet. Bennie's father's 'business' was drinking and wandering. His brother had joined the cavalry and that left Bennie the man of a house filled with older sisters and younger brothers.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tanner," Bennie turned to Vin. "I didn't mean to get you busted up like that. My Ma'll take care of it for you. She's real good at that. She takes care of Pa all the time and our house ain't but over that rise and -."

"Kid, it's okay," Vin said. "I'll make it into town to have Nathan look at me. You got a good shot on that bird, your Ma'll be proud of you," he added and Bennie visibly straightened and grinned.

They were close to the  Thompson place so after Chris helped Vin tie up his arm and mount up on his horse again, he swung Bennie and his provisions up behind him on his own horse to drop him off at the end of their lane.

"You all right over there?" Chris asked, as they watched the boy drag his bounty down the ragged path.

"I'll live. Feel more foolish than anything else. Don't think I broke anything." He grinned at Chris. "So much for your 'peaceful afternoon' hunh?"

Chris shook his head. "Never a dull moment."

~~ M7 ~~

Waiting for Miss Lily to finish picking out a new bonnet at the millinery, Buck passed some time talking with Gloria Potter on the porch of her store. He was surprised when that Tom fella turned a corner and came toward them. He gave Buck a nod and tipped his hat to Gloria.

"Ma'am. How are you this fine day?"

"I'm quite well, thank you. This morning it looked like rain, but I do think it's going to be a lovely day."

Tom tipped his hat again and smiled. "Well, ma'am, it could never be as lovely as you."

Buck and Gloria both stared after him as he continued down the boardwalk, each with a quite different look on their face.

~~ M7 ~~

Buck found Chris and Vin as they rode their horses back from Eagle Bend.

"We have to get rid of him," he said with no preamble. "I don't care who he is or what he's doing here, he's got to go."

"Who're we getting rid of?" Chris asked.

"That Tom fella a'yours," Buck said and gestured to Vin. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Horse threw me. And he ain't mine."

"Thought you were spending the afternoon with Miss Lily," Chris asked Buck.

"Yeah - well - I - we were - I just -." Buck looked around like he only just realized he'd lost his lady friend.

Vin grinned. "He's married Bucklin, and he don't wander."

"So you  _do_  know him," Buck said. Vin lost the grin, "Goin' to Nathan's," he said and spurred his horse down the street.

Chris nodded to Buck, "You best catch Miss Lily before she thinks you abandoned her."

~~ M7 ~~

Nathan and Vin came into the saloon together. Vin's bandana sling had been replaced by one a little more sturdy and the brush burn high on his cheekbone had been properly washed and was starting to show the first hint of bruising.

The other five were at a table with a card game going, so Vin and Nathan got a couple of beers and found chairs at the table to wait their turn to be dealt in.

Not too much later, Tom came into the saloon. He gave a fast glance to Vin, then did a double take and came right over to the table.

"What happened?" he asked, gesturing to the sling and brush burn.

"I'm fine," Vin told him.

Tom cocked an eyebrow. "Now that don't exactly answer the question, do it?" He gave a glance around the table and the tense mood of the other men. "You gonna call off your dogs and tell me what happened?"

"It's okay," Vin told his friends, then turned back to Tom. "My horse spooked and tossed me off." Tom didn't respond, he continued to gaze down at Vin. "I'm fine." Vin said again, with a underlying hint of a wish that Tom would believe him.

Finally Tom nodded. He patted Vin's good shoulder and went to the bar for a beer. When he had it in hand, he went to a far table away from the Seven.

After a hesitation, Vin picked up his own beer, " _'scuse me_ ," and went over to sit with Tom.

"What the hell is going on?" Buck asked.

"If I knew," Chris said, "I'd be Vin."

~~ M7 ~~

When Tom looked up to see Vin sitting down at his table, he gave him the welcoming, affectionate smile that Vin knew so well.

"You really fine?" Tom asked. Vin shrugged his good shoulder.

"Had worse with this arm when a horse rolled me over into a hitching post. Nathan said it'd likely plague me if I ain't careful. Guess I ain't been too careful lately?"

"You seen this?" Tom asked. He set a copy of Jock Steele's book on the table.

"I seen it."

"A man with a bounty on his head ought to know better than have his name and his whereabouts plastered all over creation. Travel ain't like it used to be you know. Any fool from anywhere can put himself on a train and come out here looking for glory."  

"How's Sofia?" Vin asked suddenly. He wasn't intentionally changing the subject. Tom smiled again.

"She washed me right outta the house soon as we had an idea where to find you. Told me flat out to go find her boy and not come back until I had. She sent some things for you, I'll give 'em to you whenever you want."

"I ain't going back," Vin said.

"We're not talking about that just now."

"Now or ever, I ain't going back with you."

"Where d'you live these days?" Tom's question took Vin by surprise.

"I live here, where do you think? You're the one hunted me down to this town."

"I mean where do you live  _in_  town? You got yourself a little place?"

"Room at the boarding house comes with my wages."

"And that don't exactly answer the question."

"I got -." Vin hesitated. "- a place." He thought about his wagon. He thought about the home Sofia had made for him. It wasn't just the farmhouse where each boy had his own room and each room had a welcoming bed piled high with quilts and pillows. It was the love and affection and pride that Sofia had for her stepsons, four of them tall and boisterous like their father, and one small and shy who she always did her best to make him feel he belonged.

What would the others think of their 'little brother' living in a wagon that leaked wind and collected rain and never really felt safe enough?

"Take me there?" Tom asked. It took Vin a minute to realize what he was talking about.

"No," Vin answered. "You found me, you seen me. You can go on back to Sofia now. Go on back to your family you got there in Texas."

"I got family in this town too," Tom reminded him quietly.

"No you ain't," Vin said tightly. He got up and left the saloon.

~~ M7 ~~

When Tom left the saloon not too long after Vin, Chris was waiting for him just beyond the swinging doors. Chris' cold stare, which usually had the effect of prodding silent men into soul-baring confessions, this time only earned him a bemused and equally silent look from Tom.

Larabee held on. He'd stared down armed killers, drunken cowboys, cutthroat men, and desperate peacekeepers. He'd prevail here.

Tom shook his head and started to walk past. "You want to cut me dead with a look son, you're gonna have to practice." Chris moved to block him again and Tom sighed. "You ain't the prettiest dance partner I've had, but I'm willing if you insist."

Chris wouldn't let himself be turned by the humor. "What's your business with Vin Tanner?"

"What's yours?" Tom asked

"He's my friend."

"He's my son."

~~ M7 ~~

Chris felt like he hadn't stopped in one spot longer than four minutes all day. Back to the livery he walked now to find Vin crouched down, trying to buckle his saddlebags one handed.

"Going somewhere?" he asked

"Out, away, maybe to Nettie's," Vin answered without looking up. He added softly, "Maybe not."

"He's family."

"He's no blood to me."  

"Now that don't exactly answer the question, do it?" Chris tried and Vin turned a truly angry face up to him. Having just lost the stare-down with Tom, Chris avoided one this time. "He's your father?" he asked.

"Step-father," Vin answered so quietly Chris wasn't sure he heard him. He'd expected another evasion if not outright denial.  

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what else are you going to tell me?"

"Nothing." Vin gave up trying to buckle the saddlebag and stood up. "He found me, he's seen me, he'll likely leave after a while. He's no threat to the town, I'll just lay low for a while."

"He sets quite a store by you," Chris said, and Vin got a look of consternation on his face.

"What'd he tell you?"

"Just that you're his son."

"Hunh. That don't prove nothing."

"It ain't what he said, it's how he said it. A father can hear it in another father's voice."

Vin stared at Chris, swallowing a few times. "I'll be out at Nettie's. Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."

"He came all this way to see you, just to see you and make sure you're OK, and you're going to ride off and let him leave without seeing him again?"

"You're taking his side now?"

"I'm taking  _your_  side, Vin. You'll hate yourself if you let him leave. You set quite a store by him, too. A father can hear that, too."

"He - he -" Vin turned his head down and hid his eyes behind the brim of his hat. "He married my mother." Chris avoided pointing out that he already got that part when Vin called Tom his stepfather. "His wife died a couple years before, left him with four boys. My Pa was gone and me and Ma was being turned out of our place for taxes. I'se too young then to remember much but what Ma told me later on, 'fore she passed. Said Tom came to see her, to offer help. Then he started courtin' her n'nigh on to pretty soon they got hitched.”

"So why don't you want to see him now?"

"I ain't his. He don't gotta worry about me anymore. He's got kids and grandkids and Sofia now -."

"Sofia?" Chris asked and was amazed by the change that came over Vin's face, from angry to loving.

"Sofia," Vin echoed. "Tom married her about a year after my Ma passed. She, well, she had some difficulty with her first husband, her  _late_  first husband. Tommy told me later when I's growed that -."

"Tommy?"

"Tom's oldest boy."

"Your brother."

" _No_ ," Vin answered as though Chris had asked if he was going to shave his head and put on war paint. "I ain't his."

Chris shook his head and decided to get back to the part of the conversation he could understand. "So, Tommy told you what?"

"That Sofia killed her first husband. He beat on her and was mean to her. He'd brought her up from Mexico, 'cause maybe her father owed him a debt 'r something. They was a town or two over from us, so us younger kids didn't know the whole story. Just Tom was there picking up supplies, on account of they had a lumber mill and our town didn't, and there was Sofia in jail, 'cause Tommy told me the town didn't know what to do with her. There was plenty of witnesses said it was self-defense so they couldn't hang her but her husband had family in town who woulda lynched her so they were afraid to let her go. Her father didn't want her back, and her husband's property had been mortgaged so deep it was gone like that. So I guess Tom went to see her and married her, and they been married now twenty years. She's so beautiful, you wouldn't believe it. And she loves me like I never thought was possible."

"I'd like to meet her," Chris said.

"Bucklin would fall for her, that's a fact," Vin said. He turned to look down at his saddlebag, wiping a hand over his face.

"You want me to buckle that for you?"

"No. Reckon not," Vin said, with some resignation. "If I go to Nettie's and she finds out about Tom, she'll wear me out worse n'you."

"Why don't you want to see him?"

"I ain't his."

"Because you say so."

"Huh. That's like saying the sea rolls in 'cause I say so. It just does. It just  _is_. I ain't his."

"Tom wouldn't say that."

"Yeah, well I guess everybody has to be wrong once r'twice in their lives, don't they?"

"Except you," Chris said.

"I can't afford to be wrong."

"Wrong about your father."

" _Larabee_ ," Vin growled a warning. "I told ya –  I ain't his. He took me in with my Ma and when she passed he kept me on 'cause he didn't know no nice way a'getting rid of me. That don't make him my father anymore'n it makes you my Pa."

Chris held his hands up in surrender. He wouldn't get any further with Vin like this. Vin was afraid of something, and Chris had a feeling he was pushing Tom away before Tom could push him away. Only there was nothing in any of Tom's words or actions that would give anybody – anybody but Vin – the notion that he was here to push away.

"Fine. I'm heading back to the saloon. Tom left right after you did, if you want to come back. You need me to carry that saddlebag anywhere for you?"

"No. No thanks. Think I might just -" Vin paused, apparently going over his options in his mind. "- lock myself in my room at the boarding house. Winds coming up, don't fancy sleeping in my wagon in the rain."

"I'll keep him away from you," Chris said.

"And Tom ain't never done anything he didn't want to do," Vin told him, but then quirked an amused smile. “I 'preciate it though." He lifted his saddle bag to his good shoulder with a soft groan of pain. "When you talk to him – and I  _know_  you're gonna talk to him – don't believe half of what he says about me."

He walked out of the livery and Chris watched until Vin turned in at the boarding house down the muddy street.

~~ M7 ~~

Despite being in his room less than five minutes, Vin wasn't surprised to hear the knock at the door to his boarding house room. He knew it was Tom; he'd heard that same knock a thousand times before. He turned the lock and opened the door.

"Did you ever leave anywhere so fast you were still there when you got back?" he had to ask.

"Yes." Tom answered brightly.

Vin smiled and turned away, letting Tom in to close the door. “What's in the bag?" he asked and gestured to the burlap bag Tom carried in his hand. He sat on the bed, and Tom sat next to him.

"What Sofia sent you." Tom opened the bag and began to draw out the gifts. "First thing, a new cotton undershirt."

Vin took the soft, white garment in his hands and gazed at it a moment. Sofia had to have made it just for him; it was too small for any of the other boys. He could see her hands working the tiny, perfect stitches. It even smelled like Sofia.

Tom brought out the next item. "A jar of raspberry preserves. She strained all the seeds out of it because she knows they stick in your teeth."

That made Vin smile, and he tucked the large jar right up against himself. He had to admit that he liked sitting next to Tom, it reminded him of all those years growing up, sitting next to him on his bed, or the front porch, or out in a grassy field somewhere. Tom always listened to him, never raised his voice, never belittled his thoughts or dreams or hopes. He remembered one of his earliest memories, walking through grass that was taller than he was, with Tom holding his hand and walking slightly in front to break the trail.

Tom even smelled the way Vin always remembered - soap and pipe tobacco and just the plain outdoors.

"And this," Tom brought the next gift out. "A holy medal Sofia got when she went down to visit her sister. It's Guadalupe. She said it's to keep you safe."

Vin nodded and took the small object. "I miss being home," he admitted. "I miss Sofia. And the fellas."

"And I  _know_  you miss me so you don't even have to say it," Tom said and gave Vin a nudge.

"I do miss you," Vin allowed. "I ain't got this  _whole_  world figured out yet, there's times I wish I had you to talk to." He lifted his chin and said in a voice half proud, half challenging, "I'm learnin' how t'read."

Tom smiled, a slow smile that at last took up all of his face. He put a warm hand on Vin's back.

"I can't tell you how proud I am of you. And you're doing it for yourself which is all the more reason to be proud."

"How d'you know I'm doing it for myself?"  

"They way you said it. Remember when Tommy and Maxwell were teaching you how to use a gun and you burned your hand on the muzzle? How'd you say it then?"

Vin let his shoulders slump and he ground out in a very glum voice," _'Tommy n' Max'r teaching me how to shoot.'_ " He laughed at the memory. "I took to it after a while though. How're they doing?"

"Couldn't be better. Tommy's running the ranch with me and Maxwell bought up the Acer's place just across the creek from us. Robert and Amelia Rose are running her father's mercantile now, and Eugene still has poor little Martha Vee chasing him down trying to get him to marry her." But Tom added, "They all miss you."

"If I go back, they'll hang me. The fella who framed me up is dead so how much chance have I got?"

Tom considered this. "You let me study on it a while and we'll see what I can turn over."

"Yeah. Okay." Vin watched as Tom reached into the burlap bag for another item.

"I guess Sofia knew I wouldn't be bringing you home with me," he said. He handed Vin a framed tintype of the whole family; Tom, Sofia, and the five boys posing stiffly under the only tree in the yard of the ranch. It'd been taken ten years before, maybe. Vin remembered the day, a blazing hot day. The itinerant photographer had been making the rounds of the county and showed up at the ranch one Sunday morning. Sofia declared she'd have a likeness of her family and that'd been the final word. They all spent that wretched day dressed in their hot, itchy best, standing stock still to please their mother.

Vin flinched when he 'heard' himself refer to Sofia that way. He never called her that. The boys did. They called her 'Mama' most of the time, and 'Jefa' -  _boss_  - when she got her dander up. But Vin only ever called her Sofia and she'd stopped prompting him to do otherwise. She’d told him more than once,

"It isn't what you call me,  _Corazon_ , it's what you feel when you say it."

He stared down at the likeness of his family, Tommy, Maxwell, Robert and Eugene in a straight line in back. In front, Tom and Sofia sat in her good wicker chairs, and in between them stood Vin. At sixteen or so, he was only a little taller standing than Tom was sitting. Sofia had Vin's hand in both of hers. He remembered that the photographer had argued about Sofia doing that, but she did what she wanted. He remembered how her hands had felt soft and warm around his own.

Vin shoved the tintype at Tom and stood up. He wouldn't look at him.

"What is it?"

"Just take it back to Sofia. I don't want it. I don't any of it. Just take it all back to her and -."

"And break her heart?" Tom asked softly. "Is that really what you want?"

"I want -." But Vin couldn't finish the sentence. He wanted to be back home with Sofia and Tom. He wanted his old bed and his favorite pillow, with the smell of Tom's pipe smoke curling up from the front step into his bedroom window. He wanted Sofia's warm embrace and squash pie. He wanted to be indoors when it was rainy and outdoors when it was nice. He wanted to walk and not wonder if every footfall behind him was some fool out to collect that bounty.

"I want Sofia to forget me," Vin said. He tried to open the door but with one arm and in a hurry the lock wouldn't budge. Tom came up behind him and turned the lock and opened the door.

"You stay. I'll go," he said. "Keep the things Sofia sent you." He gestured to the items on the bed. Vin stepped aside but didn't say anything. Tom put a big hand briefly around the back of Vin's neck.

"Rest well. I'll see you tomorrow."

~~ M7 ~~

From his seat at the table in the saloon, Chris could see the sky change from the pale blue of early evening to the dark threat of rain. At least Vin would be inside if the weather turned. Not that Chris would've said anything if Vin'd chosen to spend bad weather in his wagon; he was old enough to make his own decisions, even bad ones. Sometimes, though, Chris thought Vin had a stubborn streak that he employed on himself more than on anyone else. He wondered if Vin had been that way his whole life.

The possibility of an answer to that question came into the saloon as Tom walked in and went to the bar. Chris watched him; Tom had the same easy gait as Vin, the same easy stance, and – Chris knew – the same way of seeing everything without needing to look around. If Vin hadn't already said otherwise, Chris could believe they were blood.

When Tom turned from the bar with a shot glass in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, Chris invited him to his table with a look. Tom came over and sat down. He pulled the cork from the bottle and filled Chris' glass then his own.

"Looks to be a sloppy night," he said.

"Didn't figure you for a beating-around-the-bush type," Chris answered.

Tom shrugged. "All right. Where does my boy sleep when he's  _not_  indoors?"

"Why ask me?"

"He's my youngest and I make a point of knowing who he's got in his daylight. You've been my shadow practically since I rode into town. I seen more of you today than I have of him."

Chris considered this statement. "Why won't he tell you?"

"How many things have  _you_  still not told your Pa?" Tom asked. "He's a boy and as far as he's concerned I'm an old fogey who's slipping my harness. And he's stubborn. He gets that from his mother. She was the sweetest girl you could meet but when she put up her chin, that was it. He's just like her. Stubbornest boy I ever knew."

"Oh, I think he gets that from more than his mother," Chris said over his whiskey. "Leastways, you gotta be stubborn enough to keep up with him."

Tom smiled, a proud smile. "I'll see you one stubborn friend and raise you a stubborn five year old. All four of his brothers never gave me as much trouble as he did." He refilled their glasses.

"His mother died when he was five, didn't she?"

"Yeah. Her funeral was on his sixth birthday," Tom answered quietly. "That was a tough day."

"Well, that does answer a lot of questions I never knew to ask."

Chris took another sip of whiskey, considering Tom. He was sure Vin loved his stepfather, but the way Vin seemed to smart in his presence made him wonder if something else was going on too. He wasn't surprised when Tom read his thoughts.

"That boy had a warm, safe upbringing. And I don't say that for myself but for Sofia. She loves all our boys but her youngest has always been her heart. That year after his mother died," a dark expression came over Tom's face, "he just kinda rolled up in on himself. He stopped calling me 'Pa', he almost stopped talking altogether. He started school a couple of months later but Eugene said he would just sit there, not take any part. One day he slipped away from school  and I found him in a little thicket, sitting next to a pond. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he was looking for his Ma and that he'd found her there, and he was staring at dragonflies dancing on the water. I kept him that whole year in school but it did him no good. He didn't learn, he didn't try, he didn't care. He came to life when Sofia joined our family though. She coaxed him outta that shadow place and brought him back to that happy, bright, laughing boy he was before we lost his mother."

"But he never learned to read," Chris said.

"No, he never did. He's a smart boy, there's no doubt about that. That next year he stayed home with Sofia, while he was coming back to himself, but she couldn't read or write English or Spanish back then, so she couldn't teach him. We tried school again after that, but he's got a wandering soul, he always has. Keeping him inside a schoolhouse was like trying to keep a salmon downstream. It's just in his bones to travel."

Tom reached into his inside jacket pocket and handed Chris a small tintype. Though much younger in the picture, Chris recognized Vin right away, standing in the middle of his four brothers. He wore his hair longer than was in style back then, which Chris also couldn't help but notice was just like the tallest young man in the picture. All five were dressed similarly and had similar expressions on their faces. If Chris didn't know better, he'd swear they were blood kin.

"Is that your oldest boy?" Chris pointed to the picture and the son Vin emulated.

"Yep, that's Tommy, Robert's next to him, Vin in the middle, then Eugene and Maxwell."

"You got a fine looking family there."

"I think so." Tom said. He took the picture back and gave Chris another one. "That's my Sofia."

The picture was of two people, Tom seated in a wicker chair in front of a tree and Sofia standing by his side; the small, round woman with the proud face and fiery eyes dominated the picture.

"She looks like a tough one."

"Oh, if you only knew," Tom said. "Of course, she has to be tough to keep our posse in line. But she's got the biggest heart I know."

"Spoiled Vin rotten, did she?"

"She tried, she surely did." Tom took the picture back and Chris saw the affection in his face as he looked at both tintypes before putting them back in his jacket pocket. Larabee sympathized with this father's need to know.

"Vin has a wagon, he keeps it in an alley. When he doesn't sleep indoors, and he doesn't sleep outdoors, he sleeps in there."

"He sleeps in a wagon?"

" He never stays much at the boarding house, he never seems quite at ease in a small room, inside." Chris explained. He gestured out to the gloomy sky. "But he'll stay out of the rain when he can avoid it."

"You look out for him," Tom said, with a hint of gratitude in his voice.

"We all look out for each other."

~~ M7 ~~

Vin closed his eyes against the fading daylight but it only increased how clearly he could see Sofia and home. This room at the boarding house came with a bed, a washstand, and a cupboard that started empty and stayed empty. The bed had a thin mattress and a thinner pillow. The window had a layer of spattered mud across it and the patched curtains fluttered in the wind that came through the cracks in the glass.

Sofia would have a fit if she ever came in this room.

Home, Vin thought. His room at home was as big as two of this rented room. His bed was a wide marvel of feather mattress, feather pillows, and down quilts. The windows sparkled, the room was always spotless, and home was always safe.

Vin pictured Sofia walking into this room, this rented room, and the vision was so real that he sat up in the bed, actually expecting to see her in the doorway. When she wasn't there he felt foolish and the ache in his heart drove him out of the bed, out of the room, and out onto the boardwalk. He was halfway down the street when he realized where he was headed, and it stopped him dead.

He was looking for Tom.

That was too much for Vin. He wouldn't seek out Tom, he wouldn't torment himself with the false nearness of home and safety and Sofia's love. He wouldn't remind himself of everything he'd lost with no hope of ever having back again. Better to just give in to what his life was now and hold onto that as long as he could.

He turned to head to his wagon. Rain started to fall when he was still a block away. Seeing the light of a lantern on the far side of his wagon, Vin pulled his sidearm and advanced into the alley. Then the familiar smell of pipe smoke reached him and he holstered his weapon.

"You should be resting,” Tom said. He appeared around the back of the wagon, holding a lantern high, and smoking a pipe in the drizzling rain.

"What're you doing here?" Vin demanded. He didn't want Tom to know about the wagon, he didn't want Sofia or the boys to know that this was what his life had been reduced to, a ramshackle buckboard full of boxes of moth-eaten dry goods.

"We'll get you a new canvas," Tom said. He took the pipe out of his mouth and held the lantern higher, looking over the wagon. "There's some dry rot in the boards, and the wheels are unreliable, but if you're not planning on moving this critter more than a length, it'll do you for a while. 'Course, you'll want to clear most of that mishmash outta the inside."

"This is none a'your business," Vin said. " _I'm_  none a'your business."

"You can keep saying that all you want, boy, it'll never be true."

"I can make it true."

Tom sighed. He hung the lantern on the hook at the top of the wagon rib, and tapped his pipe out on the heel of his hand.

"What?" he asked

"What what?" Vin asked back.

"What happened that you need to stay so far away from us?"

"I can't go back to Texas, you know that."

"I'm talking about before that," Tom said. "Since you were big as a mite you been trying to go your own way. How many times have I had to track you down and bring you home?"

"You didn't ' _have to_ '."

"And you didn't  _have to_  save Nathan Jackson's life did you? You didn't  _have to_  step in when you knew that Indian fella didn't kill his wife. As a matter of fact there hasn't been one thing happening in this town that you  _had to_  take part of, has there?"

That at least was something Vin could defend. "I'm paid to protect this town."

Tom seemed unimpressed. “Does that include paying off Nettie Wells' mortgage? Risking that bounty on your head to save your friend Larabee from that prison? How about defending Josiah Sanchez against murder when even _he_ didn't know if he was guilty or not? You get paid to do all that?"

Vin bent his head down and the rain water rolled off the brim of his hat to land at his feet. "I got friends who talk too much."

"The important thing is you got friends, and they'll do anything to protect you." Tom looked beyond Vin, to the row of buildings behind him. The saloon was back there. "One in particular."

Vin didn't want to answer that. He turned away.

"You're family, boy."

"Family is who you choose."

Tom walked around to stand in front of Vin. "I choose you."

"No." Vin pushed past him. His chest ached and the rain blurred his vision. He felt like he couldn't breathe. “ _No_."

"What'd we do?" Tom asked. He put a hand around Vin's good arm. "What  _didn't_  we do? What else could we have done?"

Vin didn't want to be having this conversation with Tom. He'd held onto the memory, the confidence, for so long. Twenty years, since his mother died, Vin had stood apart from this family while standing right in the middle of them. He didn't want to believe his mother and he couldn't  _not_  believe her.

"Nothing." He pulled out of Tom's grip. "There's nothing any of you coulda done. There's nothing to  _be_  done." He started to walk away but stopped. He turned back to Tom.

"You're a good man, I know that. You did right by me and I'm grateful, more than I got the words to tell you. You and Sofia -." The ache in Vin's chest twisted deeper with mentioning Sofia's name. " - y'gave me more than I ever deserved. Y'treated me just the same as your sons, I know that."

"No, we treated you different than we treated the boys."

"What?" Vin asked, but he feared the answer. Now it would come out. Finally after all these years, Tom would finally tell him the truth.

"We treated you different, boy - you needed more love."

" _You don't love me_." Vin didn’t want to have this conversation with Tom, but he wanted it over. His shoulder hurt and he wanted to be out of the rain, back in his cold, unwelcoming, rented room, alone and away from Tom.

"I love you," Tom said. "You can keep denying it but it'll keep being true."

" _No you don't. She told me you didn't_."

Tom stiffen at his words. "Who told you that?" he asked. His voice held an edge of anger.

"Ma told me." The words almost stuttered out of Vin. "That morning she died, she told me."

Tom took a step towards Vin, and Vin almost shrank back, but then Tom stepped back again and took a deep breath. "What did she tell you?"

"She said, she told me, she told me 'you're a Tanner, remember you're a Tanner.' That's what she said." Vin waited for Tom's answer; Tom seemed to be waiting for more from Vin.

"That's it?"

"She was telling me I don't belong to you. She knew you don't love me. She was telling me I couldn't belong with you."

"She was dying boy, she was burning up with fever. Those last few days she kept calling me 'Martin', your father's name."

"That proves it," Vin persisted.

"It proves that your mother loved your father, and if she thought I was him then I can only be grateful that I reminded her of someone she loved that much. But she wasn't telling you that I didn't love you. She was just telling you that your father loved you, too."

That bit of logic started to work a trail into Vin's mind and he didn't want it to.

"She told me." he said again. He stomped off to the saloon and left Tom standing in the alleyway in the drizzling rain.

~~ M7 ~~

The breath built up in Vin's lungs as he crossed the muddy street. He nearly went into the saloon, but it was too bright and busy inside, he could see that through the swinging doors. He didn't want to go back to the boarding house and he didn't want to go back to the livery. He didn't want to go anywhere he'd already been this day and while that still left him a lot of choices, it didn't leave him with a lot of choices that he actually wanted to be.

With nowhere else to go, Vin turned down another alley and stopped as soon as he was surrounded by darkness. He finally let out the breath that filled his body, and leaned back against the side of the saloon, sheltered a little at least from the rain. He felt sick.

He really didn't mean to be cruel to Tom but dammit he'd been driven to it. If Tom would just stop. Dammit all to hell, if Tom would just stop nagging on him every second they were ever together, Vin knew he wouldn't have had to tell his mother's tale. But now that Tom knew that Vin knew he didn't love him, the play-acting would end. Tom wouldn't have to pretend anymore. He probably wouldn’t even try.

And maybe that's what would hurt the worst.

He'd lost people in his life before, but this was more than losing people. Finally telling his mother's last request of him had cost Vin his home. Even if he ever did clear his name, now that Tom knew that he knew he wasn't loved, there'd be no welcome for Vin back -  _there_. He wouldn't let himself think of it as home now. He'd lost the boys, he'd lost Sofia. He'd lost Tom.

But that's what his mother told him; her last words to him told him that as much as he might think he belonged to Tom's family, he didn't. Her last appeal to him was to  _not_  belong to Tom's family. And all these years, he'd tried his best.

Vin slid down the side of the building until he was crouched close to the ground. As soon as the ache in his chest and the mist in his eyes cleared up some, he'd go into the saloon and drink himself witless.

The familiar footsteps didn't surprise him as much as he wanted them to. He'd never hidden anyplace that Tom hadn't found him; he just figured this time Tom wouldn't  _try_  to find him.

Instead of coming into the alley, Tom took his own position leaning against the saloon right at the corner in front, six feet or so from Vin. He didn't say anything right away, he never did. Sometimes Vin wondered if it was to give him a chance to bolt, but this time he was too dispirited to try.

"You know Pa, my Pa, would never eat cornbread," Tom finally started.

"Yeah." Vin thought he remembered hearing something about that once or twice. He pushed himself back up to standing. The movement was awkward one handed and it pulled at the muscles in his sore shoulder

"When he was a boy, they were eating supper and his brother, my Uncle James, he ate his cornbread and got sick. So Pa would never eat it again.”

"Yeah." Vin wondered where Tom was going with this.

"You know when that was, boy? Seventeen eighty-nine. Pa was eight years old, but for as long as he lived he never ate cornbread again because he thought it would make him sick." Tom moved a bit closer. "He never ate it again because he wanted to protect himself. But do you know what was really sad about that?" he asked. "It was that Pa  _really loved_  cornbread."

Vin didn't answer, and Tom moved another foot or so closer. His features were half hidden in the darkness, half illuminated in the flickering light of the street fires.

"Your Ma was dying, boy. She told you something that she never had a chance to explain and you were a boy and you made the best sense out of it that you could. But you're a man now and you can take it out and look at it and make  _better_  sense of it."

"She wouldn't lie to me."

"She  _didn't_  lie to you. You should be proud, damn proud, of the Tanner blood you got in you. That's all she was saying. You Ma wouldn't tell you that you didn't belong in your own family."

"It's not  _my_  family."

"We  _are_  your family boy. I loved your mother and she loved me. We were a family then and we sure as hell are still a family now."

"You didn't love her," Vin accused him. "If you did, she wouldn't a'told me that."

"Ask Tommy and Maxwell. They're old enough to remember," Tom said. He sounded like he was trying hard not to be angry now. "Ask the Acers or the Petersons or any of our neighbors who knew your Ma. Ask Sofia if you don't believe me. God knows I talked her ear off enough about your Ma."

"Sofia would only say what you wanted her to say," Vin snapped. He didn't know what made him say that, but having said it, it took credence in his mind.

"What?" Clearly the thought was as ludicrous to Tom as it should've been to Vin, but Vin's mind only worked hard to give him evidence.

"Y'saved her from a lynch mob. Y'think she's gonna cross you?" Vin walked around Tom, out of the alley, and onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon. Tom followed him.

"That makes no sense boy, and you know it."

"You just don't want it to make sense, 'cause it proves that I'm right." Vin intended to go into the saloon, but Tom stopped him.

"So, Sofia only says what I want her to say."

"That's right."

"And she only believes what I believe."

"Yeah."

"And she only loves what I love."

"Yeah, she does."

"You're sure about that, are you?" Tom challenged.

"As sure as I've ever been about anything," Vin answered back, hot and without thinking. "Sofia only loves what you love."

"She loves you," Tom said. The implication of Tom's words - and the trap he had walked himself right into - hit Vin like a blow. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Tom smiled at him, and laid his palm against Vin's cheek. "Now get outta the rain." Then he walked away, into the darkness.

~~ M7 ~~

In the light going out of the window, Chris could see Tom and Vin wrangling out on the porch of the saloon. Vin looked angry. Tom looked concerned. Vin was spitting something resentful out at Tom, and Tom clearly was egging him on. Not an unusual thing when father and son didn't see eye to eye, Chris knew from experience.

But then, whatever got said, Vin abruptly shut up. He stared at Tom like he'd been gigged and seemed at a loss for air as much as words. Chris wondered if Tom had said something hurtful to Vin, but then he touched Vin's face with gentle affection before walking away, and Chris had to admit he didn't think Tom was capable of hurting Vin.

Vin seemed fully capable of doing that himself.

With Tom gone off the porch, Vin turned into the saloon, walking stiff and angry. His sling caught on an edge of the swinging door and gave him what had to be a painful tug. He ripped the sling from the door then impatiently tugged it off over his head, somehow managing not to take his hat with it. He threw it on the floor and stalked to the bar.

Once there though, he didn't order a drink. He pressed his left arm across his chest and with his right hand he gripped the bar. He didn't even look up at Inez when she came to stand in front of him. She looked at Vin, then at Chris, and made a slight gesture with her head that he should come over. So Chris picked up the quarter full bottle of whiskey from his table and took it to the bar.

"Can I get a refill on this, and another glass?" he asked Inez. She nodded and went to get another bottle.  

"Y'got something to say, say it," Vin snarled at him. He sounded like he was in a lot of pain. He didn't look at Chris.

"All right," Chris obliged him as Inez set the new bottle and glass next to him. "This'll take the sting outta that arm."

Vin looked to see what Chris was talking about, then he sighed and nodded for Chris to lead the way to his table. They sat and Chris filled the shot glass for Vin, and half-filled his own. Vin tossed his back in one swallow but then held the glass in his hand.

"If I believe him," he said out of nowhere, "then I been a fool my whole life." He seemed to be talking to himself, and he wasn't looking at Chris again.

"Believe him about what?"

"About my Ma."

That was a dangerous place to take a conversation, Chris thought. A man's mother and his feelings for her were often a sacred thing. He considered his options; the logical next question would be to ask what Tom had said. That might not be something Vin wanted him to know,  _especially_  about his mother.

So he waited.

After a while, whatever Vin was staring at in the middle of table must've dissolved and he looked up at Chris. "He said he loved my Ma."

Chris couldn't imagine how that might be a bad thing or why Vin didn't want to believe it. "He did love her." He said.

"And just how the hell do you know that?"

"The way he talks about her."

"Hunh," Vin belittled that remark with a huff of derision. He looked down into his empty glass like maybe he was thinking of having another shot of whiskey.

"He said she was stubborn," Chris said, and that brought a slight curl of a smile to Vin's face.

"He tell you about the bobcat?"

"No, what bobcat?"

A full smile broke out on Vin's face. "I don't remember it, I'se too little. Tommy and Max like to tell the story though. Seems like the first meal Ma was gonna cook after her and Tom got hitched, she was bringing a ham and a couple boxes of groceries into the house. She set the ham on the porch while she opened the door and brought a box in to the kitchen. When she went back out, a bobcat had the ham and was dragging it off the porch. According to Tommy, she had a tug of war with that bobcat 'til she grabbed a griddle out of the other box and swatted him so that he dropped the ham and ran off."

Chris shook his head. "The apple don't fall far from the tree, does it?"

"I don't know about that," Vin said. He set his glass on the table but waved off Chris' offer of another drink. "Anyway, I think the real story is that she  _heard_  a bobcat off in the scrub, and he didn't get any closer than that. But every time Max and Tommy tell the story, the bobcat  _and_  the ham gets bigger. Hell, the last time they told it,  that ham was so big, we ought to  _still_  be eating it."

"Sounds like they loved her too," Chris had to point out.

Vin nodded like he was conceding a battle. "I wish I could see her as clear as they do. Seems like I lose a little bit more of her every day."

"Seems like you got somebody who could tell you just about anything you could want to know about her."

Vin didn't answer that. He rubbed his left shoulder and flexed his hand.

"You think he didn't love her?" Chris asked. "You think he doesn't love you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I think I know, and sometimes I don't."

"What's the worst thing that could happen if you believe he loved you mother? If you believe he loves you?"

"I could be wrong." Vin said it quietly, but Chris could hear the longing and fear in his voice. "That's the worst thing that could happen."

Chris poured himself a full shot of whiskey and took a sip to give himself time to consider an answer. "You know it's easy enough to prove anything you choose to believe," he said. "It's been my experience that when you turn your mind to something, your heart will follow all on its own. It's all a matter of what you  _choose_  to believe."

Vin let out a long breath and Chris could hear the weariness in it. "Then I guess Then I guess gotta start thinking on my choices."

~~ M7 ~~

Quiet fell over the table in the corner of the saloon. Chris could see that Vin was considering something deeply in his mind and his memory. He didn't want to disturb that. They sat and watched out into the smoky saloon.

"How do I know?" Vin finally asked. A half hour maybe had passed since either of them had spoken. "I been thinking on it, and I just can't tell. He says he loved my mother, he says he loves me, but I don't know. I can't have been on the wrong trail all these years."

"When you're out tracking, what do you do when you think maybe you lost the trail?"

"Y'go back to where you're sure you had it. Then you start over." Vin answered. He seemed to understand what Chris was pushing him towards. He looked down at the table, then out to the saloon. He started talking again without looking at Chris.

"I never thought on it when I'se a kid, whether they loved me r'not,” he said.  “I knew I had a home where I was safe with my Ma, I knew that I felt better when I was with her, but I didn't know that was love."

He turned back but still didn't look at Chris, he looked down at the table again, and poked at his empty shot glass with his finger.

"I remember the first time I wasn't scared a'Tom anymore. I was little, I musta come up only to the top of his boot. It seemed like anyway." He smiled and gave a quick glance up to Chris. "We was at a picnic, or a barn raising maybe. It was a long day and by the end of it I was gettin' a mite weary and awful tetchy. Ma was threatening to box my ears iffen I didn't settle down and behave but I was hot and tired and I just wanted to go home.

"I remember Tom, clear as day saying 'Now Rachel, you go on have some lemonade. You let me take care of –‘" Vin hesitated, then finished the sentence as though he was hearing the words for the first time. " ‘-  _our boy_.’" His voice caught. He sat up straighter in his chair and stared at that nothing on the top of the table. Chris could tell something overwhelming was being stirred up.

"I ain't thought on that in years," Vin said. He looked up at Chris. "When Ma died – I remember the neighbor ladies came over to lay her out in the parlor and they shut the doors and wouldn't let none of us boys in there. I was hungry and wandering the house. I remember I went upstairs, Tom was there. He was sitting on their bed." It seemed to take him a little effort to get the next words out, and he said them with no little awe.

"He was crying." He pondered his own words a moment or two. "He didn't know I was there, he was facing the other way. Max found me and brought me downstairs and fed me grits with too much molasses." His eyes got a far away look. "I ain't thought on that in years."

Chris knew that Vin was a smart man, so he knew he didn't have to push the obvious on him. He waited a few more minutes while a little more comprehension filtered into Vin's mind. He could see the decision on Vin's face before he spoke.

"Reckon I'll head back to the boarding house," Vin said, sounding casual enough. But Chris guessed there was a storm of feeling underneath it. "Got some things need taking care of."

"I'll see you later then," Chris said. He watched Vin leave the saloon, stopping just briefly to retrieve his abandoned sling from the floor. Chris didn't smile until Vin was out of sight.

~~ M7 ~~

Vin got to his room at the boarding house. He locked the door and tossed off his hat and coat and holster, then rubbed his sore shoulder while considering what it was he wanted to do. Finally, he reached under his mattress and pulled out the tablet and pencil Mary had given him. He sat on the floor next to the bed and set that tablet on his knee. With deliberate care, and an unsteady hand, and a heart that ached more now that it had before he came to his senses, Vin began his letter:

" _Dear Mama, I am well…"_

~~ M7 ~~

A strong finger of sunlight poked at Vin as he sat up in bed; he'd slept dressed, on top of the covers. He had Sofia's letter gripped in his hand. A page and a half long, it'd taken him till well past midnight to finish it. He knew Tom would be up with first light and he wanted to give the letter to him as soon as he could.

Pulling on his coat, hat, and holster, he left the boarding house and went to the hotel. He'd hardly set foot into the lobby, and hadn't said a word, when the clerk answered his question.

"He said to tell you if you come looking for him, he's heading out. If you hurry, you might catch him at the livery."

Vin thanked him and hurried to the stable. The closer he got, the more he believed he had to be too late; if Tom was set to leave, he'd leave, and dawn was long over. He could be miles away already.

With a feeling that was nearly panic, Vin threw open the door to the livery. There sat Tom on a bale of hay, poking at something on the floor with a piece of straw. His horse stood nearby, saddled and ready.

When Vin saw him there, he stopped short. He took off his hat and held it against his chest. Tom smiled at him and stood to be in front of him. Vin felt like he did when he was fourteen years old and just won the county fair prize for marksmanship - wanting Tom to be proud of him, worried that there'd be a public display of affection, and really not believing himself what he'd just done.

"I was hoping I'd see you before I set out," Tom said. In answer, Vin shoved the letter at him. In his anxiety he'd folded it three times more than was necessary so he handed Tom a thick wad of paper.

"Will you give this to Sofia for me?"

"You know I will." Tom took the letter and carefully tucked it into his inside coat pocket.

"Will you give her one more thing too?" Vin asked.

"Of course."

With that answer, Vin took a breath and a chance. He felt his body hesitate of its own accord before he pushed himself into the moment and put his arms around Tom. His injured shoulder painfully resisted the movement, but he ignored it. He felt the answering embrace that he knew from his childhood – warm, safe, and physically breathtaking. One big hand gripped the back of his jacket, the other pressed hard and warm against the back of his neck. Vin knew that his life – and his answers – were in this embrace.

"I love you, boy."

"I love you, Pa."

 

The End.


End file.
